Author's Note:

Thanks for all the interest in this story… it made me write a little faster, so here's the next chapter. =)

Chapter Two

"This New Heartache"

Back in her apartment, Kate found exactly what she expected to find: solitude. Sunlight filtered easily through the windows, highlighting the fine film of dust that covered her dining room table. Books littered the top of it, emblazoned with the name she now wished she'd never heard. Once, she'd admired it. It didn't seem fair that the man had once gotten her through her mother's death, helped her heal, only to drag her right back into it now and reopen the wounds she'd so carefully sutured. Fate, it seemed, was crueler than even she gave it credit for.

She ran her fingers over the glossy covers, tracing the lettering she knew so well. She could throw them all out, she knew. It would have been all too easy in that moment to grab a trash bag from under her sink and throw them all into it. She could light a match and turn the pages to ashes, or send them through a wood chipper and turn them into mulch. Destruction was something she knew all too well, but it was only a temporary cure. The pressure on her chest and the tears pricking the backs of her eyes had been caused not by his words, but by his actions. All the spiteful reactions in the world wouldn't have cured her of these feelings. They felt a lot like betrayal.

How could he have betrayed her? The thought was ridiculous. Betrayal was a lover's word. They weren't friends, and they sure as hell weren't lovers. She could just barely tolerate him, for God's sake. Richard Castle was a pest. He was a fly buzzing around her head, getting himself in more trouble than she could even begin to fathom. He made impromptu phone calls to show off his influence and bought expensive gifts to showcase his success. Espresso machines and gorgeous dresses.

Kate scoffed.

Who the hell did he think he was? Just because he was a celebrity he could treat her life like a pet project? He could go to hell, Kate thought as she curled up on one end of her couch. Straight there, with no pit-stops. He had no right. Even Will knew better than to interfere with her mother's case.

She'd almost asked Will once, late one night when she felt that he was the only one in the world who could understand and give her the help she needed. He would look over at her, give her a soft and mildly arrogant smile, and she'd wonder why she didn't just come out with it. The feeling quickly passed, though, and she was grateful she hadn't gone through with such a ridiculous ambition. It was almost certain that she would have regretted it after a while, so it was much better left undone.

So why did she tell Castle?

The question bothered her now more than ever, when her momentary weakness seemed to have exploded in her face. Kate Beckett was the authority at keeping people at arm's length, and yet she'd told a virtual stranger about one of the most intimate details of her life. Short of confessing to cheating on one math test in the second grade, she'd told him everything she'd ever felt necessary to hide. And what did he do with it? He threw it back in her face with a new spin—just something else to keep her awake at night, when she was unsettled enough without his help. The information meant nothing to him, and it never would.

She laughed out loud, finally realizing her error. Deep down, she wanted it to mean something to him. It was a lovesick mistake, born out of an infatuation that only grew wings and learned to fly once she had a face and boyish smile to put with the name that had acted as her lifesaver all these years. The fascination was there the night she brought him in for questioning, and had only deepened when she realized that he was far more knowledgeable than she'd been willing to give him credit for. She should have known that the dark look in his eyes when they met hers was bad news, an omen of the heartache to come, but that would have been too simple, and her life never was.

Now it didn't matter, did it? She let the tears slide down her face then, not bothering to wipe them away. It was all over and done with, almost before it started. He'd done the one thing she'd begged him never to do, and she wasn't about to forgive him. Every feeling she'd ever had for him—every touch of longing—was now locked away, never to be examined again.

Just like that, Richard Castle was out of her life.